


kiss me with your mouth open

by swordgay



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, feelings? in your Kepler? maybe, no slurs or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordgay/pseuds/swordgay
Summary: a bar fight, a parking lot, a christmas celebration.





	kiss me with your mouth open

you’re in some fucking bar in the middle of nowhere, texas when some jerk makes a comment about you two sitting close together in your booth. 

_what’re you two up to here_ , he sneers, half-drunk but soberly homophobic, and you barely furrow your brow when you answer him.

_none of your business, friend._

of course, jacobi wants to protest, is already clenching his fist, but you put a hand on his thigh underneath the table, keep him close to you. there’s no need for that. yet. after all, you’d hate to mess up your expensive shirt. 

you stop caring about the shirt when the man brings two of his buddies over to gawk at you and spit a couple slurs out. 

the ramones are playing on the shitty jukebox. _perfect soundtrack for a brawl,_ you think as you stand up and punch one of them right in the jaw. 

jacobi joins you, but not before he downs his drink. he’s not as skilled in hand-to-hand combat as you are, but it doesn’t matter; his messy punches compliment your strategic ones all the same. just as you get one of them on the floor, you hear him smash a bottle over another guy’s head, shards of glass cracking under his old combat boots. 

by the time you’ve dealt with them all, your hair is messed up and he’s got a bloody lip, but you’re both smiling viciously, like predatory animals. he’s panting and you think _god,_ you’d take on anyone in the world if it meant he was by your side watching with his big green eyes. 

_let’s go,_ you tell him. take his hand, and the other patrons stare because this is the south and it’s never changed in the twenty years since you got beat up in an alley, but they’ve all seen the damage you two can do, so they let you go.

it’s starting to snow and the streets are empty, so you allow yourself to press him against the hood of the car and kiss the blood off his lips. he laughs, still drunk on adrenaline, and you do too. 

you rest your forehead against his back at the motel when christmas eve turns into christmas. his chest is illuminated by the shitty lamp on the bedside table, full of freckles and punctuated by bullet hole scars and straight lines under his pectorals. he’s beautiful. you’re bad at it, but you love him. if you had a few more drinks in you, you might tell him that.   


_merry christmas, daniel,_ you say instead. 


End file.
